


Not the Kind of Drugging One Normally Associates with Athletics

by Anonymous



Category: Original Work
Genre: Forced Regression, Gen, Pants Pooping, Pants wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 17:12:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19398685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Lauren just wanted an up, alright?





	Not the Kind of Drugging One Normally Associates with Athletics

Lauren Aponte was very aware of the unfairness of the world. It probably wasn't healthy - her dad had shared who knew how many studied with her, about the dangers of holding on to resentment and what it could do to a person. She'd seen all of the TED talks, the motivational posters... and yet she couldn't turn it off.

It just wasn't _fair_ that Jessica Albertson got all of... well, everything. Not only - not only! - was her best friend gorgeous, smart, and funny. Oh no, the universe had decided that Jessica would _also_ have parents who were famous horse people - her mother was a gold medalist rider, her father was a trainer. And Jessica loved horses! If there was any justice in the world, Jessica would at least be afraid of horses, or want to become a painter, or... something. Something she could fight with her parents over, something that would make her anything less than perfect. But Jessica seemed to always be perfect, and it was getting under Lauren's skin.

Truth be told, Lauren hadn't really been interested in horses beyond My Little Pony, until she'd met Jessica. And then Jessica had gone on and on about how much she loved her horse, how important the bond between humans and horse was, and, well... Jessica had this _way_ of describing things, to make them that much more appealing. Lauren didn't know how Jessica did it. She hadn't really cared about horses, until she'd seen Jessica on the back of a horse and heard more of that talking, and it had just... it had hit something in her head. So she'd gone to her parents, she'd begged for lessons, and then it had just been hard work. So much hard work - it was kind of ridiculous, all things considered. It wasn't fair that Jessica seemed to make it seem so effortless (although even Lauren had to admit that a chunk of that was probably because of the fact that Jessica had been riding since she could toddle, but still), it wasn't fair that Jessica had a beautiful horse, a beautiful home, a beautiful everything. 

It all just wasn't _fair_. 

It wasn't as if Lauren was bad at riding! That was the worst part! She was almost always the runner up, the second best. She was eternally a silver medalist. She wanted to be a gold medalist, more than anything else, wanted a first place trophy. Increasingly, it was beginning to seem like that wasn't going to happen, as long as Jessica was in the picture.

So maybe she'd have to do something to get her out of it.

Lauren paused, yanked out of her thoughts. Okay, no, when she started going down _that_ road, she started to sound like she was planning a hit, or something equally creepy. She rested her chin in her palm, her elbow on the table, and she stared off into the middle distance, trying to formulate her thoughts. She needed to... what, deal with the resentment? Get over herself? Find a way to forgive Jessica for being loved and blessed by the universe? 

Lauren sighed, leaning back into her chair and rubbing her face with both hands. She was tired. She was tired of dealing with... all of this, but she wasn't really sure how to make it stop. It didn't help that her own parents were always driving her towards doing better. Nobody wanted second place, as far as her father was concerned. It made no sense, either - he was a famous psychiatrist. Didn't he know what pressure did to kids, when you put too much on them? Maybe he didn't see it as too much pressure. Maybe he just wanted a kid to brag about.

"What's going through your head, babe?" As if summoned by the thought, Lauren's dad came into the kitchen.

"Nothing," Lauren said quickly, because she wasn't exactly sure how he would react to the idea of... well, everything that was going on in her head. She knew that the pressure that he was putting on her was for her own good - training her for when she was in the real world, and people weren't quite so understanding about all of her various foibles. 

"Nah, it's gotta be something," said her father, and he patted her on the head, that way that always got on her nerves. She swatted his hand away, but he just patted her again, no doubt because he could. He'd always been like that. 

"Why does it gotta be something?"

"Because no daughter of mine would just be sitting at her kitchen table staring into space," said her father, giving her a Look. "There are many more productive uses of your time."

Lauren resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Her father was always on her back about being "more productive," which got pretty old pretty fast. 

"I'm sure there are," she said, although she made sure to keep her tone as free from sarcasm as possible. She knew how he reacted to sarcasm.

He still raised an eyebrow at her, and she had to work hard not to blush. 

“So what are you pondering?” He sat at the table with her, his long legs stretching out in front of him. He was a long, leggy man - she had taken after her mother, and was short and stocky. It was another one of those things that her parents were always on her about. Another thing that Jessica was just perfect at. 

“Just… thinking about the competition,” said Lauren, which was true! Maybe not exactly the way he was thinking, but still. 

“You’ve been training hard,” said her father. “You’ll do great. You’ll definitely get gold this time.”

“Right,” she said, although her stomach was still knotting up. “I think I’ve really been improving my form.”

“Yeah?” He didn’t seem to care that much - her parents didn’t know that much about riding horses. They knew that she wanted to compete in something, and she was going to be the best at it that she could be. They wouldn’t accept anything lesser. 

"Oh yeah, definitely," Lauren said earnestly, and she tried to ignore the anxiety building in her chest. "Do you... would you want to come to my next event?"

"Maybe next time, honey," her father said. "I'm working on a project."

"Is this the same project?" 

"Nope," said her dad, and he sighed. He looked especially tired. "New one."

"What kind of new one?"

He looked at her sidelong. "Since when are you so interested in my projects, hm?" He raised an eyebrow. 

"I can't be interested in what my dad does?" She held her hands up defensively.

He kept looking at her.

"I'm just... ruminating a bit on certain things," she admitted. 

Her father leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his chin in his hands. "I _am_ a licensed psychiatrist, you know," he told her. "Maybe I can help?"

_I feel like I'm slowly being crushed to death by the demands you put on me_ , thought Lauren, and she bit back the sardonic smile. That probably wouldn't be appreciated. 

"I'll be alright," she told him. "You know. The usual problems of... someone my age."

"Boys and popularity," her father said fondly, and she gritted her teeth to keep from screaming. God, did he listen to a _word_ that she said? "Things were simpler when you were little, you know."

"Were they?" She remembered being a little kid as being a haze of confusion and frustration - nobody listened to her, nobody took her seriously. At least as a teenager, people couldn't pretend that they were ignoring her for her own good.

"You were such a happy baby," her dad said, and now his expression was fond. He'd taken his glasses off, and he was staring off into the middle distance, as if he was trying to see something very far away. "Always laughing, smiling."

"Was I?" She didn't remember it that way, but then again, her earliest memories started at around six.

"I miss my happy girl sometimes," he said, and he looked over at her. There was something weird about his face, but Lauren couldn't place it.

"Well," Lauren said, and she tried to sound cheerful, "I'm doing my best to get there."

"Right," said her father. "So you still curious about my project, or were you just making small talk?"

"What, it can't be both?" Lauren tried not to rub her face, tried not to show just how tired she was. Tired of competition, tired of having to impress, tired of... everything.

He laughed, and she was reminded of her father - not the psychiatrist, not the man who was constantly driving her to do Better (what kind of better? Who cared, just Better). Her chest got a little tighter.

"I mean, fair," he said. "I'm still working with that one regression project." 

"Regression project?"

"Yeah," he said. "Some people revert to being... younger when they're stressed out, or dealing with trauma," said her father.

"What do you mean, revert to being younger?" 

"Some people start losing their finer motor control," said her father, "or they lose their toilet training. Some people have trouble with speaking, or they end up losing some of their emotional maturity."

"Right," said Lauren. "So you're doing a project with that?"

"Yeah," said her father. "It's... it's one of those things that's best done in a controlled environment, but a lot of people have issues with that. It's like a panic attack - a lot of people who regress end up doing it when they're in stressful, unsafe place. If there was a way that we could induce regression in a safe place, to help people deal with it without having to worry about anything else... well, that would be pretty handy."

"Right," said Lauren. "Would you want to... like, why would people regress, anyway?" She didn't usually ask her father about his work - he was usually a lot more close lipped about it. Maybe he was particularly tired today.

"It's a way of feeling better," said her father. "Going back to simpler times. Not wanting to worry about all the issues that you have as an adult, not having to worry about bills or global warming or... well, anything, apart from if you need a new diaper or a cuddle or a bottle."

"What, diapers? Regressed people use diapers?" 

"Some do," he said. He grinned at her. "Why? Were you into it until then?"

"What?" She licked her lips, and was somewhat surprised to find that she was blushing. "No," she said. "No, no, it's... it's fine. Just never thought of that kind of thing before." 

"No?" 

"No," she said. "I've always been grateful to just be an adult."

"You're not an adult yet, honey," her father said, not unkindly.

"I'm pretty close," she said, puffing up. "I'm almost -"

"Yes, yes," her father said, interrupting her in that way that always made her crazy. “You’re almost a fully grown big girl. But you’ll always be my baby!” He tweaked her nose, and she batted his hand away, wrinkling her nose. 

“I hate it when you do that,” she groused.

“I know, but you’re so cute when I do ti,” he told her.

She resisted the urge to make a dismissive hand gesture, or to keep arguing. He never listened to her when she argued, anyway. “So what’s the issue you’re having with the regression drug?”

“We’re trying to figure out the exact right dose,” he said. “It’s complicated - we have people who aren’t going under with the highest safe dose before it starts have permanent effects -”

“Permanent?” Lauren interrupted. “What kind of permanent?”

“There have been… a few issues,” her father said, and now his expression was evasive. “We’re still working on it.”

“Oh,” said Lauren. “Is this, like, an ethics committee sort of issue?”

“Aren’t you a little young to be asking after ethics committees?” Her father was frowning now, the gates slamming shut behind his eyes.

“Sorry, Dad,” she said quickly. “We were, uh, talking about them in debate club.”

“Oh,” said her father, and he relaxed. “What were you debating?”

"The... ethics of regressing people. Since there are, uh, there are so many kids out there that need the care and..." She trailed off - she could already see her father's eyes start to glaze over. Her parents wanted her to do all of the various after school clubs, but they didn't actually seem to care about what she did in them, just that she was at the top. 

It helped that they were so inattentive - she was a horrible liar. If they'd been paying even a little bit more attention, they might have noticed. 

"That's nice, dear," said her father, and she could already tell that he was thinking about something else. 

Lauren bit back a sigh. As annoyed as she got at her father for probing her like that, she also didn't want him to just... ignore her. Anyway, talking to him helped her sort out her feelings. Maybe it was something to do with him being a therapist, or something like that. "So what else does this regression drug do?" 

"Hm?" Her dad looked back up at her. 

"You'd be rolling it out, if it was doing exactly what you wanted it to do," said Lauren.

"What makes you think that we're not just about to roll it out?" He leaned back, putting his hands behind his head. "Can you get me a glass of water, babe?"

"Sure, Dad," said Lauren, and she stood up. 

She was beginning to get an idea. It was probably a horrible idea, but... she was also getting desperate. She couldn't take any more lectures from her parents, any more disappointed looks. If she'd absorbed anything in life, it was the fact that she had to be the best. Period, end of story. 

"So there have been a few side effects," her father said, after she'd set the glass of water in front of him. "Not really... dangerous ones, per se, but they can be... interesting."

"What kind of interesting?" Lauren sat down next to him, taking an apple from the bowl in the center of the table. She peeled the sticker off, looking at it thoughtfully.

"Well," her father turned back on her, "what kind of interesting do _you_ think it is?"

Lauren snorted. He liked to do that sometimes - make her work for the answers. Always striving forward, which also felt somewhat... excessive. "Well, there's always people just dropping dead," she said, "although I can't really imagine how a regression sort of drug would do that to people." 

"Any drug can do that to people, if you take enough of it," her father said, and there was a note in his voice that she didn't entirely understand - she shot him a look, but he was staring into his glass of water, his expression far away.

"Right," said Lauren. "Sorry." 

"People are having some issues with... situational awareness," her father said. "Nothing too dangerous - no walking into pits or stuff like that. But some people are not realizing they're not in, say, the bathroom when they defecate, or not in their own bedroom when they start to get dressed."

Lauren nodded. "Right," she said. Her idea was getting stronger. 

"But we've almost ironed it out," her dad said, with some confidence. "We just need a few more test subjects."

"Do you have any?"

"We've always got test subjects," her father said, and something about the way he said it sent a chill down her spine. It was... eerie. She sometimes forgot just how ruthless he could be, when the time called for it.

She nodded again.

"Some people will do a lot of things for money," he told her, "and to help their fellow human beings."

She was _pretty sure_ he wasn't facetious, but she couldn't always tell, with him. He was sometimes just... like that. Maybe it was a dad thing. "Their fellow human beings," she echoed.

"Exactly," he agreed. "There are some good people out there, after all." 

Now he had to be being sarcastic. Right?

"Do you have any, uh... any test subjects?" She almost said "willing," then bit it back at the last second. 

"I've got a few, yes," said her father. "I'm going to be dispensing the pills at work." 

"How do they work? The pills, I mean." 

He looked at her sidelong, one eyebrow up."Why the sudden interest?"

"I just think it's neat," she said, and she kept her tone as sincere and open as she could. "The fact that you can help people, just using a few chemicals." She knew how to stroke his ego, at least. He was easy that way. Both of her parents were. 

"Well," he said, and his expression softened, "everything is chemicals, when you get down to it. It's just finding the right combinations to make things work."

"Right," Lauren agreed. “So do you just give them to someone, and, like… presto, instant baby?”

“No,” said her Dad. “It’s a little bit more complicated than that. You need to do it over a period of time, or else you can override certain things, and possibly change them permanently.”

“I thought that you wanted to be permanently changed, with the regression.”

“No,” said her father. “It’s people seeking a temporary reprieve. Not a permanent return to childhood. Although it does sound like it’d be nice.” His expression turned faintly wistful.

“I’m gonna get back to my homework, Dad,” said Lauren, and she stood up, then kissed the top of his head.

He absently patted her on the leg - the closest thing he could reach. “Of course,” he said. “You’re gonna get nothing but “A”s.” 

“Right,” said Lauren, and she tried to ignore the anxiety that heaved in her stomach, like a giant snake. 

* * *

There was a text message on Lauren’s phone, when she got back to her room. It was a text message from Jessica - a selfie of her on top of that goddamn gorgeous black horse, Whiskey.

_Someone is feeling cranky_ , read the text message, although Lauren couldn’t actually tell who Jessica was talking about. 

_Is he being uncooperative?_ Horses were usually uncooperative for Lauren. Admittedly, she still wasn't entirely at home on a horse. She was getting better! Much better! She was coming in second in almost every competition! She didn't have the same... experience that Jessica had. She just needed to catch up a bit more.

If only there was a way to just get Jessica to take a break. Not even, like, a long break. Not a permanent break. Maybe a few months. She wouldn't want to... like, kill Jessica, or anything drastic like that - even Lauren could admit that would be going way too far. But maybe a little... sidelining. 

_He's just twitchy. I think he picks up on my energy before we have a competition_ , texted Jessica, and it was another selfie. There was Jessica, looking as lovely as ever, and Lauren ground her teeth. 

_You'll do great_ , she typed out. _You guys always do_. 

_I'm sure you'll do great, too_! texted Jessica, and Lauren read it, then rolled onto her stomach on her bed, pressing her face into her pillow. 

She was going to have to do something about this. She couldn't take much more of it. Something would have to give, and it wasn't going to be her. 

She'd always loved horses, it was true - their beauty, their strength, the way they seemed so _free_ , in a way that she couldn't ever be. She wished she was that big, that strong - wished that she could just run and run, until she was away from all of her family's expectations, away from all of her family's... everything. 

The idea that had been planted in her mind was beginning to sprout, like a particularly... interesting seed. She was going to see where it would go from there, but for now... well. She'd have to figure out how to get into her dad's office.

* * *

Jessica Larson would never really understand her friend Lauren. 

She thought that the two of them were pretty good friends - Jessica, admittedly, had a lot of friends, for a whole bunch of different reasons. Some people were horse people, some people were school people, some people were nerd people... Jessica just liked people. It was one of those things that she didn't entirely understand about Lauren; she always seemed to expect Jessica to only want the one kind of friend, or to always be in... competition with people. It made no sense, as far as Lauren was concerned. 

But what could she do?

She turned her face up into the spray of the shower, sighing as the hot water drummed down on her head. She was tired - tired in her bones. It had been a long practice. And Lauren kept looking at her funny, which was giving her the creeps. She was never sure what to do about Lauren, when her friend was in that kind of mood. Not that she didn't understand it - she _did_ , since this kind of thing was always kind of complicated. 

Lauren's parents were... well, Jessica had met them. They'd been polite, but there had been some kind of undercurrent going on that she didn't entirely understand. Jessica's own parents were nice enough - they were parents. They had their own lives going on, and most of those lives consisted of horses. Not that Jessica was complaining! Most of her own life consisted of horses too, and it wasn't like she could complain too hard - she _loved_ horses. A large chunk of her life was devoted to horses.

Sometimes she thought it might have been nice if her main source of validation wasn't also the main source of validation for her parents. If the main thing that she was good at wasn't _also_ a thing that her parents weren't obsessed with. What if her gift had been painting, or singing, or rhythmic gymnastics? How would that have gone over?

... She must have been in a pensive mood, if she was ruminating like this. She wasn't usually one for dwelling - she'd never seen the point of it. Why dwell, when you could just roll your sleeves up and get on with it? 

But Lauren had been staring a hole into the back of her head during her whole warm up, and Jessica wasn't sure what to make of that. She was tired - she was _so_ tired, tired in ways that she didn't entirely have words to describe. Some part of her wished for... what? What did she want? 

She wanted to be able to ride Whiskey and not have to worry about competitions, not have to worry about her reputation, about doing her parents proud. It would be nice to be able to just _be_ , and not have to worry about... well, all of this stuff. 

It was easier when she was a little kid. When was the last time she’d been able to just do stuff, no pressure? Probably way back when she was still toddling around, before she was even toilet trained. It was probably a bad sign that she was nostalgic for those days. She kept scrubbing her hair, trying to get the scent of horse out. Not that she _minded_ the smell of horse - not at all! It just… stuck around.

At least her mom had stopped getting her the mane and tail shampoo. It had probably started out as a joke - a bad joke, admittedly - but it had just… morphed. Her whole room was even horse themed, which seemed a bit… much. She shivered, as the water temperature went down; just how long had she been standing here, anway? She had to get out of the habit of zoning out while she was showering. It could _not_ be good for the water bill. 

At least today had been pretty good. Lauren had been downright _solicitous_ , after the whole mess with the staring. She’d even given Jessica a bottle of water, which had been nice. 

Jessica would never really understand Lauren - she was half tempted to keep trying, but, well... don't try to chase things that don't want to be chased. If she'd learned anything from working with horses her whole life, it was not to chase something. If it wanted to come to you, it would come to you. 

Maybe Lauren would come to her some day - who knew?

Anyway, Jessica had bigger things to worry about. She was just so damn tired - she wanted to go to bed, she wanted to relax, she wanted... well, she wanted a whole bunch of things. Wanting things didn't actually get you them. 

* * *

Jessica slept, and she dreamed. She didn't remember much from her dreaming, apart from the safety of it, the warmth. She remembered being held, remembered being at peace in a way that she hadn't been in who knew how long, except that it was the kind of simple happiness that she'd given up long ago. She woke up with her pillow wet, and she sighed, sitting up.

Then she froze.

Her pillow wasn't the only thing that was wet. Oh... shit. Had she peed the bed? The cold, clammy sheets wrapped around her legs like some kind of restrictive snake, and she felt like she couldn't breathe. Oh god, she'd peed the _bed_ like a baby, what kind of creepy freak was she? How the hell had she managed to do this? What the fuck was wrong with her?

She was shaking - she wasn't just shaking, she was crying, 7 she wasn't crying silently either. She was ugly crying, right into her hands, trying to catch her breath, trying to stop panicking. The panic didn't seem to care. It squeezed her ribs like a snake, and something small and important... snapped. She whimpered, and she sobbed, her mouth falling open. 

What was she going to do? Did she need to hide the evidence? Did she need to come clean? What would even make her wet the bed in the first place? Was this an anxiety thing - she'd never been _this_ anxious before. 

Jessica rubbed her face, her cheeks and her eyes swollen and hot. She stood up, and her whole body... lurched. There was a moment where standing up took too much effort, too much confusion - a moment where she was somehow too big and too little at the same time, as if her body had changed in some strange, new way overnight. Or maybe her mind had changed, but her body was the same. Was that an option? Did it work like that? _Could_ it work like that?

Jessica sobbed again, and she pulled her pajamas off - they were already starting to chafe her, rubbing her thighs raw, sticking to her legs. She stripped the bed quickly, efficiently, and almost walked out of the room... before realizing that she was naked. She was naked, and she smelled like piss. Okay.

She had to do something about that, first and foremost. She'd have to get less naked, then shove everything in the washing machine, then take a shower, then... she'd go from there. It'd be that simple, right? It was usually that simple. She hadn't ever pissed the bed like this, alright, but she _had_ done laundry before, and she could do this. She just had to get up, she had to make her way towards the laundry room, she had to get less naked. Okay.

She could do this. She wasn't some little baby. She could _totally_ do this. 

* * * 

Jessica did her laundry. She took another shower, did her bed up again. Thankfully, she hadn't pissed enough to actually get through to the mattress, which was a good thing. She didn't have to worry about having to clean the mattress. That would be an awkward thing to explain to her parents, to be sure. 

Admittedly, they'd probably notice that she was showering at some weird hour, but maybe she could play it off as... what? She got her period early? She'd always been as regular as clockwork, so that probably wouldn't work. Her parents paid attention to her periods - her parents paid attention to her everything. Sometimes she felt like like their daughter, and more like another one of their prize mares. It was exhausting, but if she didn't think about it too hard, it stopped being quite as much of a... thing. 

That probably wasn't a healthy way to go about things, but she had other things to worry about right now. 

* * *

Jessica was halfway out of the gym locker room when Lauren grabbed her by the arm and hauled her back in.

“What the heck are you doing?!” Jessica tried to yank her arm back, so angry she was actually shaking. How _dare_ Lauren lay hands on her like that?!

“Jessica,” Lauren said, her voice low, “you’re not wearing any pants.”

Jessica looked down at herself, and she started. She was indeed naked. How had that happened? She didn’t remember putting any pants on, it was true, but was that actually a thing that people remembered in the first place? “Oh,” said Jessica, and she flushed. “I’m… I’m sorry about that. That’s… I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” said Lauren, and she patted Jessica on the arm. “It happens to the best of us sometimes.” She was clearly in one of her friendlier moods - she was smiling at Jessica, just a little bit nervous. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Jessica said, and she sighed. She took the bottle of water that Lauren was offering, and she took a slug of it. “Thanks.” 

Jessica was very... aware of Lauren's eyes on her, and she tried not to think about it too hard. There was something vaguely embarrassing about it. "So, uh... how've you been?"

Lauren smiled, but there seemed to be some humor gone from it. "You know how it goes," she said, and she looked tired.

"Right," said Jessica, although it felt a bit like she was missing something. It often felt like she was missing something with Lauren. There was something deep and complicated in the other girl's eyes, something she didn't entirely understand. Maybe she never would. 

"What can ya do, eh?" Lauren patted Jessica on the shoulder. "Other than put on pants, I mean." 

Jessica snorted, but she grinned a bit in spite of herself. "Pants are an illusion," she told Lauren, more to be silly than because she meant anything especially profound with it.

Lauren snorted, and she prodded Jessica in the side. "You're so weird," she said, and it was the most honest, affectionate thing that Jessica had ever heard Lauren said. 

"Well," said Jessica, "I do my best."

* * *

Lauren watched Jessica, and she tried not to stare too hard. She had looked up information on regression drugs on the internet - getting the one from her dad had been a pain and a half, make no mistake. But she had it, and now she was just... waiting for it to kick in. When would she know that it fit? When would it be obvious that it had kicked in?

It wasn't even as if Lauren wanted to hurt Jessica, because she _didn't_! She was... fond of Jessica, inasmuch as she could be fond of someone who she also frequently wanted to shout at. Could fondness manifest that way? These types of things had always been confusing to her, although she was, admittedly, still pretty new to that kind of thing. But she was just... she wanted something. She wanted Jessica to be humiliated, she wanted to _win_ , although she wasn't sure what winning actually meant in this case. It was all very complicated, twisted up on the insides of her head. 

Maybe she needed to talk to a therapist about it. Although if she talked to a therapist, it would probably end up coming around and biting her in the ass, because then the therapist would find out about her giving Jessica the drugs, and then Lauren would probably end up in jail or someplace equally unpleasant. Did they have special jails for juvenile poisoners? Did this even count as poisoning? 

"Lauren," said Jessica, "are you alright?" They were sitting next to each other in homeroom, which was unusual, but there hadn't been any free seats, and Lauren... well, Lauren would never want to admit it, but she was curious as to what was going to happen to Jessica. Would her face change, or just her mind? Some of the videos of regressed people she'd seen, they'd actually looked _different_ , not just acted different. Admittedly, a lot of what a person did with their body resulted in changes in their face, but... still.

"Yeah, sorry," said Lauren, and she gave a crooked smile. "I was, uh, I was busy practicing yesterday. You know how it is."

"Right," said Jessica, and then she patted Lauren on the hand. "You work yourself too hard, you know that?"

Irritation flashed through Lauren, and she did her best to squash it down, her jaw clenching just a bit. "Well," she said, and she tried to keep her tone civil, "not all of us can be as gifted as you are."

Jessica seemed to miss the jab, and she smiled. "I'm sure you're very talented," she told Lauren. 

"Right," said Lauren, and then she took out another bottle of water. "Here you go." 

"Hm?" Jessica looked down at it. 

"You look thirsty," said Lauren. "Hydration helps, right?" 

"Hydration helps at least some problems," Jessica said, and she took a slug of water, then another. "This water tastes different," she said, her expression thoughtful. 

Lauren's stomach dropped like a stone. 

"You must have better pipes than the ones we've got back home," said Jessica, and she drained the bottle. "Ours tastes a lot more... mineral-y."

"Minerals aren't a bad thing," Lauren pointed out. "They're good for building bones."

Jessica laughed, and she looked genuinely delighted. "You sound like my doctor," she told Lauren.

Lauren snorted. "I'd make a lousy doctor," she told Jessica.

"I dunno," said Jessica. "You push hydration as much as any doctor I've ever had.

"Maybe doctors have the right idea about pushing it, though," Lauren pointed out. She'd never seen Jessica drink that much in one go. Would that have any kind of effect on how the drug was absorbed? She'd been feeding it to Jessica in small drips and drabs, but this was the first real shock to the system, as it were. 

“I wonder why,” said Jessica, and her voice had taken on a dreamy cast.

Lauren’s eyes darted to her face - it was looking more relaxed, more… calm. She’d never seen Jessica this at peace. It almost made her feel guilty. 

Almost.

She kept her eye on Jessica for the rest of homeroom, until the very end, at which point she heard something… splashing. 

What?

Lauren looked down… and she tried not to grin. _Oh_. Oh, wow. It had… it was definitely doing something.

“Jessica,” Allison hissed, “you peed your pants.”

“I… what?” Jessica looked down into her lap, frowning. “No I didn’t.”

“You did,” said Lauren, and she wrinkled her nose. She could smell it.

“No way,” said Jessica. “I’d never pee my pants, I’m -” Then she froze, as the sensation of hot piss sticking to her inner thighs seemed to sink in. “Oh no,” she said, and she seemed to crumple inwards. “No, no, this… this can’t be happening…”

“It’s okay,” Lauren said, and she was trying not to smile. “It’s fine, I’m sure it happens to tons of people, it’s totally okay.”

“No,” Jessica said, and she sniffed, hard. “No, it’s not, it can’t be okay, because I don’t -”

“But you did,” Lauren interrupted. “You did. It’s fine. It’s a thing that happens to some people. It’s fine.” 

"But I'm not _some people_ ," Jessica said, and she said it in such a way that Lauren kind of wanted to punch her. "I'm not some people, I'm _me_ , and I don't do that kind of thing!"

"But you did," said Lauren, and maybe she was relishing the opportunity to be a little cruel more than she should have. Oh well. There were moral shades of grey, right? And some of this was even for Jessica's own good - the other girl was obviously doing too much, and needed a chance to actually relax and not have to worry about everything. Regression was good for that, right? And Lauren would be able to make her parents proud. So really, this was a win all around, right?

Except for the custodian who was going to have to clean up after this, but he got paid for that, right? 

"I can't... Lauren, I..." Jessica was crying, tears tracking down her face, leaving wet spots on the collar of her shirt. Wet spots on the shirt, to match the wet patch on her pants. Less of a patch, really, more of a growing stain. 

"C'mon," said Lauren. "We can call your parents. They can take you home."

"I can't miss my test," Jessica mumbled, and she wiped her face with the back of her hand, sniffling. "I'll get a zero."

"I'm sure we can figure something out," said Lauren. "You won't get a zero if you have to leave for medical reasons..." 

Jessica was still crying, and it was getting louder. It was the kind of loud crying you'd associate with a little kid, and Lauren wasn't sure if she liked it, or if she felt guilty. There was some happy medium between the two of those things, right? Her heart was in her throat, as she cautiously wrapped an arm around Jessica's shoulders.

"It's okay," Lauren said earnestly. "I promise. It's okay. We'll take you to the nurse's office, she can help you. She can... she's got, like, a shower, I think, that'll be fine. It'll all be fine. Absolutely fine." 

She shouldn't have been enjoying this as much as she was - she very much shouldn't have been. Was this a sign that she was a bad person, or maybe an aspiring serial killer or something? Was that one of those signs, like animal torture, or wetting the bed?

... Well, _she_ wasn't the one who was wetting anything, was she?

Lauren bit back a smile, and she patted Jessica on the back. She didn't know what it was that she had been hoping for, but this was so much _more_. 

* * *

Jessica sat in the nurse's office, and she cried. She wanted to stop crying - she knew, logically, she should have stopped crying a long time ago - and yet she didn't seem to be able to. She could choke back the noisy sobs, barely, but she was clutching at herself, rocking, her thighs tacky with her wet piss. The nurse kept shooting her concerned looks, and Jessica couldn't exactly blame the woman - this was all so ridiculous, so disgusting, so _weird_. 

She was beyond the point of wetting herself. She'd passed the point of wetting herself a long time ago - she was potty trained! She was, if not an adult, as close to being an adult as you could be without actually being one! So why was she pissing herself?

It was like she was in some floaty, far off place in her head - her feelings seemed to be behind a heavy curtain, or maybe the blindfolds that they used on the horses, when they needed to be calm. It would be simpler if she was a horse, wouldn't it? She liked horses - she'd always loved horses, always loved the idea of being strong and beautiful. Or maybe her mind was just drifting into a million and a half different places - any place but _here_ , having to think about the fact that she had pissed herself in home room, and everyone had seen it. 

It would be talked about _forever_. It would go down in the history of the school, and she'd never be remembered as anything but that weirdo who pissed her pants in home room, and what was she even supposed to do with that? She couldn't really spin it in a good way, she couldn't explain it to her parents as just an accident (even though it _was_ just an accident, albeit in a weird way), it was all just... a mess. She sighed again, wiping her face with the back of her hand, and her eyes were red rimmed, her cheeks sticky with crying. 

It was bad enough that she'd been wetting the bed, but now... now, she was pissing herself in daylight. What did it mean? She was going to have to go to a doctor about it, and soon. Was it possible for her to go to the doctor without her parents realizing? The idea of having to talk to her parents about any of this made her want to die, more than a little bit.

She had to live up to their standards, and their standards did _not_ include pissing herself like a little baby, that much was obvious. She’d go to a doctor, she’d find a way to do it without her parents finding out. Then she’d just… figure out what was wrong with her. She’d fix it, she’d go on with her life, continue on the course that she’d had set out for her since the first time she had gotten onto a horse’s back. 

(Jessica was a smart girl, yes, but she’d never been one for self reflection, or she might have seen some of the… issues with this. However, luckily for Lauren, she wasn’t really one for introspection, or she might not have been in this mess in the first place.)

She was going to be fine. It would all be fine. She just had to work a little harder. She just had to stop crying, and then everything was going to be fine. 

* * *

"I do understand that you've been under a lot of stress, darling," Jessica's mother said, some time later. The two of them sat in the car, and Jessica was still snuffling. "This sort of thing is just... it's not done." Her mother looked uncomfortable, and that made it worse, somehow. Jessica's mother, normally so unflappable, looked... well, flapped. 

"I'm sorry," Jessica said quietly. "I'm not... you know I'm not doing it on purpose, right?"

"I _do_ understand," said Jessica's mother, and she put a hand on Jessica's knee, squeezing it, then letting go of it. "We can... help you with it. These sorts of things do happen sometimes. I do understand it's a stressful time for you right now, so... don't worry about it too hard."

"You're not... mad at me?" Jessica had to keep from sniffling. 

"I'm not at you," Jessica's mother assured her. "I am aware of just how much stress you're under." She patted Jessica's knee, then let go of it. "Your father and I love you very much, Jessica, and we want you to be happy. We only want the best for you."

"Right," said Jessica, and she bit back a sob. She could do this. It would all be fine. Absolutely... fine.

* * *

Jessica didn't realize that she was naked until she was on her way to the dining room. Oh no. No, that wasn't a thing that she was going to do. She'd taken a shower after she'd gotten home, to clean off the remains of her own piss, but... well. It just felt so _nice_ to be naked - the air on her skin, no restricting clothing. She'd apparently been a bit of a streaker when she'd been a baby - her parents had so many stories about her running around naked.

They liked to share those stories a bit more than she would have liked. She honestly would have been happiest if those stories _never_ get repeated, but then again, nothing in her life ever went the way she wanted it do, did it?

... Wow, but that was a morbid train of thought. What was going on with her today?

Jessica went back to her room, making a point of putting her clothes on this time. She would _not_ be naked. Even though she very much wanted to be naked, wanted to let her skin just _breathe_ for a change. But she could at least go work with Whiskey, tell him her troubles. He always listened to her. 

She ran her hands up her thighs, satisfied with the sensation of fabric under her palms, then turned to walk out of her bedroom.

Only to catch sight of herself in the mirror, and see that she wasn't wearing anything on top. 

Okay.

She sighed, her hair flopping over her face, and then she went, and she put a shirt on. Okay. She could do this. She'd done it her whole life. She could keep on doing it now. How hard could it be, to remember to wear her clothes? 

* * *

She had to triple check everything, to make sure she wasn't naked. She was very nearly late to her riding lessons, although Whiskey at least was glad to see her. He nickered, and pressed his nose against her neck, his ear flickering. 

"Hi, buddy," she said, and her voice was quiet. "It's been a complicated sort of day. Couple of days." She stroked his nose, and he blew hot air on her chest. "You don't have to worry about that sort of thing, do you?" 

He nickered again, and his hair was soft against her cheek. 

"You just wanna go out, huh? Let's go do some jumping."

* * *

She felt like herself on Whiskey again - she smiled up at the sky, as the air rushed past her, and she leaned forward, holding on to the reins. "Good boy, Whiskey," she said. "Good boy. Let's go!"

Jessica did English riding, of course. You couldn't do proper jumping in a Western saddle, and besides, her parents would have died of shame. But the idea of being able to put a saddle on Johnny Walker and just... go was intensely appealing about now. She imagined just running - running and running, until she didn't have to think about exams, about competitions, about anything except the fact that she was alive, and he was alive, and they were two living things together, cooperating in some complicated way that was older than the wheel. 

She laughed up at the sky, and she relaxed... and maybe she relaxed a little too hard, because there was warmth across her lap now, and when she looked down, she saw that she'd wet herself again. 

Oh _no_. She was going to have to have her saddle cleaned specially, she was going to have to give Whiskey a bath, she was going to...

She took a deep, gasping breath, and then that breath turned into a sob. She began to cry, loud, noisy tears, and that wasn’t fair, She was supposed to just _deal_ with this issue, she wasn’t supposed to be falling to pieces over this. She needed… she needed to go to a doctor, except if she went to a doctor, she’d have to damit ti, and she didn’t want her parents to know about all of this, she didn’t want them to do… any of this. She didn’t want any of this. 

She just wanted it to all be over. She pressed her face into Whiskey’s neck, and she smelled in the familiar scent of horse. 

* * *  
. Getting the saddle to the cleaners was a whole song and a dance. She had to give Whiskey a proper bath before she did anything else, which he appreciated, at least. He was a bit of a needy baby sometimes, and he always flourished under lots of attention. His skin shivered and he kept nickering at her, as she scrubbed him down. Luckily, the natural scent of a horse pretty much overrode the stink of piss. Thank god, or else she might have been desperate enough to actually put perfume on him, and that was never a good idea. Once you tried to get a horse to smell like something that wasn't horse... well, madness lay down that way. 

The guy behind the counter looked faintly skeptical when she said that she had spilled something on the saddle, but she gave him the money (her parents were going to be pissed when they saw the credit card bill, but she'd deal with it then), and it was his job to just deal with it. She didn't like having to just give someone else her problems, but... well, there was a comfort in it. She might have been disgusting and losing control of herself in a way that no adult ever should have, but at the very least there was someone else who could deal with it, at least a little bit. 

Jessica was going to keep being on top of this, because that was what she did. She kept going, because what else was she supposed to do? She didn't want to disappoint anyone, she didn't want to ruin anyone's life, she didn't want to... 

Jessica paused, mid-thought. Maybe she was putting a bit too much intensity into this. Too much pressure on herself. Maybe she was having something like a nervous breakdown, because she was just pushing and pushing and pushing. But that was what her parents expected, what her peers expected, her... everyone expected. She didn't want to disappoint anyone. She _hated_ disappointing anyone. She sighed, and she ran her hands over her face, trying to get her mind into something like working order. It was all just... complicated. Complicated and scary, and she didn't understand any of it, except that it all seemed to be going bad in ways that were a lot scarier than they had a right to be. But she'd sort it out.

* * * 

Jessica pooped her pants when she was coming back from the saddle cleaner's. She didn't have any warning for it - one minute, she was walking down the street, her sweater tied around her waist to hide the wet spot on her waist. The next, her stomach was cramping up, and she had to stop walking so that she could catch her breath, because there was an intense, deep cramp in her belly. Was she getting her period? It felt too early for that - her period was usually later in the month. She was breathing heavily through her mouth as she slowed to a stop, leaning against a bench to keep from losing her balance. Her guts were squeezing tight, and she could feel familiar muscles relaxing in ways that she didn't want them to, other ones tensing up in equally unpleasant ways. She groaned as her pants were filled with hot, thick poop.

Oh _no_.

She was crying right there in public, although nobody was around to see it, thankfully. She was crying loudly, and she was pressing her hands into her face, shaking and rocking, trying to catch her breath but it was just so _there_ , wet and hot and mushy, pressing against her skin. It was the most disgusting thing she'd ever had to deal with, and it was still _there_ \- she didn't know how to deal with this, didn't know how to deal with any of it, because she couldn't breathe, she couldn't think, she couldn't do anything but stand there panting.

She had to get a hold of herself, had to start walking. Had to get home without her parents noticing anything, then had to do laundry. Had to approach her mother about this, because she needed to go to the doctor, she needed to do something to make it _stop_ , she needed...

There was nothing but _needs_ yanking at her, and all she wanted to do was wrap herself up in a blanket and hide from the whole world, maybe go climb into a cave somewhere so that she could be left alone. She wanted to be away from all of this, so that she could just... fix it.

It would never be that simple, would it? She had to actually face her problems, even if she didn't know how to. But if she was going bad enough that she was actually doing... well, _that_ in her pants, what was she actually supposed to _do_ , at the end of the day? What would her parents do to her, if they found out? It wasn't exactly part of their vision of her, was it? Some whiny little crybaby with poop in her pants; not exactly the champion jumper that they wanted. 

What was she going to _do_?

* * *

Jessica got home on her own, somehow. She wasn’t sure how she did it. She managed to get to the bathroom, to dump the crap out of her pants. She showered, long and hot, and then she did the laundry. It was… well, it was gross, but at least nobody had to know, right? Her parents would see the saddle cleaning bill, but she could put that down to doing something dumb, like spilling a milkshake on it. She’d done that before, although not since she was ten. But still, she’d be fine. It would all be totally fine. 

Maybe she needed to start wearing a pad? That wouldn’t be able to fix it _entirely_ , but it might save her clothes a little bit, at least? No, she was peeing too much for a pad. There was always, like… disposable underwear, or those grown up pull ups, but they seemed a bit… much. 

She didn't want to be at the point where she was having to wear pull ups - let alone _diapers_. The whole idea was just... it was making her skin crawl, but what else was she supposed to do?

She sat on her bed, rocking, and she didn't even realize that she was sucking her thumb until the tip of her index finger traced over the bridge of her nose. She had done that when she was very small - her parents had trained her out of it, more or less. She'd also gotten very sick, which had hammered home the idea that it was a bad idea to do it. But now she was finding it soothing, to rock in place, her thumb in her mouth, her eyes closed. It was like an endless loop - rocking left her calm, which made her want to keep sucking her thumb, which made her more anxious, which made her rock more, until she was just... sitting there. 

_I wish I had a rocking chair_ , she thought, and that was a weird thing to think about. There had been one in her room, when she was a little kid. She had loved to sit in it and rock, until she'd outgrown it. At least, her parents said that she had outgrown it. It was one of the reasons she loved riding horses - that same soothing, back and forth motion.

Jessica sighed, and she pulled her thumb out of her mouth, with effort. Okay. She just needed to get a hold of herself. She needed to start acting her age. She was too old to act like this. She was too old to do a whole lot of the things that she had been doing lately, and her stomach was clenching up anxiously, or maybe that was something else? She stood up, and she bolted for the bathroom.

She got there just in time, thankfully. It was a close call, though. She pissed, and she leaned back against the toilet, her eyes sliding shut. Okay. She had made it this time. She just needed to... keep doing that. How hard could it be, right?

She tried not to think of how many times she'd wet her pants, how she'd actually done more than just wet her pants, and she didn't want to think about that too hard, she didn't want to think about _anything_ too hard. All she wanted to do was hide under her bed, maybe pull a blanket over her head and cuddle something. She wanted to keep rocking herself, she wanted to be held, she wanted... 

Jessica was faintly shocked to find that she was crying. She wasn't bawling, at least - it was nice that some part of her wasn't overflowing, overdoing itself. She was holding on to herself and rocking, she was _crying_ , sitting on the toilet. God, how pathetic was that? How had this become who she was? How was this a thing that she was doing? She wasn't a person who cried like this, she wasn't a person who cried in _general_ , except now it apparently was a thing that she did, and she didn't know how to deal with that. She wasn't who she was anymore, and how did she work with that?

She wished she had friends she could talk to about this, but how did you even talk about this? "Oh, by the way, I'm going incontinent and sometimes I don't realize that I'm naked, so how are you doing?" That would... very much not go well. 

She shivered, and she covered her face with both hands. She sighed, heavily, and she rubbed her eyes. She'd be fine. She could do this.

* * *

Jessica had another accident at school, and Lauren found her crying in the bathroom. Lauren did her very best not to look too gleeful, when she heard the by now familiar weeping coming from a particular stall.

"Jessica?" Lauren tried to sound concerned, and not like she was mentally rubbing her hands together. "Jessica, are you alright?"

"I'm... it happened again," Jessica said, and her voice was thick and stuffy, as if she'd been crying. "I wet my pants."

"You can borrow my sweater," said Lauren. "It's probably not too bad." She leaned against the stall. "But, uh, also. I got a thing. A special thing. I asked my dad about the problems you've been having, and I figured I could, uh... I got you some special pills."

"Special "stop wetting your pants" pills?" Jessica sounded disbelieving.

"They make pills for _everything_ these days," Lauren said quickly. "You know my dad works with psychiatric medication, right?"

"You think the pants wetting is a psychiatric thing?" Jessica sounded even more defensive. 

"I mean, it is the kind of thing that can happen," said Lauren quickly. "You know. Psychosomatic." She wasn't entirely sure she had the right definition of that, but she'd heard it used often enough that she had a feeling that she was using it right. 

"God, that just makes it worse," mumbled Jessica, and there was another wet sound. "Do you, uh... do you have the pills? With you, I mean." 

“I do indeed have the pills,” said Lauren. “But they’re in my backpack. Can you wait until after school to trade them? Just ‘cause, you know, you wouldn’t want to get caught trading pills, y’know.”

“Oh _god_ ,” Jessica groaned, and the toilet flushed. “My parents would absolutely kill me.” She opened the door, and she was smiling at Lauren, her eyes red and over bright. “You’re a really good friend, Lauren,” she said, and she hugged Lauren, squeezing her tightly. “I dunno what I’d do without you.” 

Lauren patted Jessica awkwardly on the back, and she cleared her throat. “I’m glad to help,” she said awkwardly. “It’s good to be helpful.” Wow, that was a dumb thing to say, but what else was she going to say? 

“This is gonna save my butt at the show,” said Jessica with a sigh. “I don’t think I’d be able to ride Whiskey if I was still pissing myself.”

And the guilt vanished. She was doing this to make her parents proud of her. “Of course,” she said. 

"Take these pills," Lauren said. "They'll help you. I promise. Your current problems will most definitely stop being the worst thing in your life."

Lauren wouldn't have felt quite so... guilty about all of this if Jessica wasn't so goddamn _trusting_. She went through life fully expecting everyone to be nice to her, expecting everything to work out. The most infuriating part of it was that it usually _did_ , and that just wasn't fair! Why did Jessica get to have the wonderful, supportive parents, the beautiful horse, the exciting life, the friends who seemed to care about her even when she did embarrassing things like piss herself? Why did Jessica get to have all of that, but not Lauren?

"You're the best, Lauren," said Jessica, and she hugged her friend. "Thank you so much for this. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Things would certainly be different," Lauren agreed, letting herself be hugged. Jessica smelled faintly like pee, which wasn't... pleasant, per se, but there was something weirdly satisfying about it. There was something nice about knowing that she was having an effect on Jessica to this extent. 

"God, this is all so crazy," Jessica said, and she leaned back away from Lauren. She looked very tired. "It's all just been..." She made a vague hand motion. "I don't know what's wrong with me, but I don't think my parents are going to put up with it that much longer, and I don't want to disappoint them."

"They're your parents," Lauren pointed out. "They love you. They're going to love you no matter what you do."

"I don't know about that," said Jessica, and she leaned back against the wall of the stall, rubbing her face. "It can be... you know, complicated."

"Right,' said Lauren. "Well, you do know they'll still love you, right?"

"They might love me, but they still have... expectations. I wouldn't want to disappoint them."

"Nobody wants to disappoint their parents," Lauren said sharply, and maybe she said it a little _too_ sharply, because Jessica was looking at her sidelong. "I mean," she added hastily. "That's just common sense, right?"

"Right," said Jessica, and she sighed, rubbing her eyes. "This is all so... I hate it."

"I know," said Lauren. "but it should clear itself up soon, right?"

"Right." said Jessica. "It should. This probably happens to... tons of people." She rubbed her face again. "So I'll see you later? About the pills, I mean."

"Oh, definitely," said Lauren. "I'll be sure to give them to you. They'll do great."

"Thank you again," said Jessica. "You're such a good friend, Lauren."

Lauren smiled at Jessica, and her stomach only gave a bit of a guilty twitch. 

* * *

Jessica took the pills before bed. It was odd, to take pills like this - she'd never been good at taking pills to begin with, what with her intense gag reflex. But Lauren was a smart girl - she'd be able to help. Her dad was such a hot shot in the company that he worked at; Lauren had bragged about it often enough. Jessica had honestly always found that to be obnoxious, but it turned out that was saving her ass. Or at least her dignity. 

Go figure.

Jessica was going through her closet, looking for something to wear to bed. Her pajamas had been too... constricting lately. Too tight, too hard to breathe in. She liked the idea of sleeping naked, except her mother had a habit of waking her up in the morning, and she'd rather _not_ flash her mother if she could help it. Especially considering how many issues she'd been having with not realizing that she was naked. That was especially weird. Not that she'd ever been particularly body shy, but... well. There was a difference between being body shy and not wanting to be naked all the time. She would rather not be naked all the time, what with one thing and another.

... No, that was a lie. She liked the idea of being naked all the time. She liked the idea of not having to worry about clothes, liked the idea of feeling the cool air against her skin, liked the idea of not choking on tight cloth around her, keeping her boxed in, like she was in a chrysalis. Although did that mean that when she was naked she was like a butterfly? Or was she overthinking this?

Probably.

She found an old box of knick knacks, and she squinted down at it - there sure was a lot of random assorted stuff in there, wasn't there? Old bits of Halloween costumes, bits of jewelry, a bookmark... There was a giant novelty pacifier, from her last Halloween costume - she'd been a baby. That had been cute, hadn't it? 

Everyone had said that she was adorable. Why couldn’t she be cute like that all the time? Why couldn’t people think she was adorable more often, instead of expecting her to be smarter, more athletic, more charismatic? She sighed, rubbing her eyes. It had been easier when she was still little like that - so much easier. She missed the old days, when she was young and there weren’t so many expectations on her. Maybe that was why she was losing control like this - she was so desperate to go back to her youth, when things were just so much easier. When her parents were proud of her for smiling at them, or walking.

… Wow, this was actually getting depressing. She didn’t want to dwell on this so hard. She shoved the pacifier into her mouth, more to give her mouth something to do than because she wanted to suck on it. Maybe that would at least shut up the incessant arguing that was going on in her head. 

She sucked on the pacifier, and it did indeed shut up some of the constant shouting in he head. She hadn't realized just how... loud it got, on the inside, until it all shut up. The silence practically _echoed_ , and she sighed, her eyes fluttering shut. Wow. This was... this was exactly what she had needed. She hadn't even realized how badly she needed it, but now she had it, and it made the tension in her shoulders relax, the incessant pounding of where she'd been grinding her teeth finally let up. She was so tired, so sick of all of this... everything, and having it let up, even for a few minutes, was like _heaven_. 

Maybe this would help her. Maybe she was just losing control because she was so tense, and just having a chance to relax was going to help her. She knew this probably wasn't true - why would _stress_ of all things make her wet her pants, let alone have... other sorts of accidents? Wouldn't it make more sense for her to _not_ go? But then again, since when did bodies ever do anything that made sense? Since when did anything ever do anything that made sense?

She sighed. She needed to sleep. Maybe this was all some ridiculous nightmare, and she would wake up and everything would be normal again. Although if she was going to do that, she'd need to take the pills, before she fell asleep. Although drinking anything before bed was probably a bad idea, because she didn't want to pee the bed, but she _also_ didn't want to have to worry about this getting worse. Maybe taking the pills would make it easier to not have any kind of accident, right?

She could only hope. 

* * * 

Jessica had odd dreams. She didn't remember them - she didn't remember much of anything, except that she was wandering around her parent's barn, and all of the horses were that much _bigger_ than she was. Not just bigger the way that horses are usually bigger, but the size of houses, of dragons. Horses the size of something out of a myth, and here she was, wandering around. Her legs seemed to be spread apart by something that... crinkled, that made it hard for her to take regular steps. She was _waddling_. How was she waddling - what was between her legs? In the dream, everything seemed to be _off_ in some weird, complicated way that she couldn't put her finger on, except that she was just... confused. Lost. Everything felt lost. She was looking for someone who was missing, or maybe she was being chased by something, but no matter what she did, it seemed like there was another one, and no matter where she went, she seemed to be following her. There was something she was afraid of, something big and complicated that she didn't understand, except that it scared her down to her very bones, and she didn't know how to deal with that. She didn't know how to deal with the things that she was afraid of, because in the dream, she was afraid of everything. Maybe not just in the dream, either.

In the dream, she found Whiskey, and he pressed his nose into her face. It felt like velvet, lipping at her face, and she sighed, rubbing him. She was normal sized again, except she also _wasn't_ , because she... wasn't. It was all dream logic, and even in a dream, she could tell that it wasn't making any sense. She wasn't going to pay too much attention to it, because... she needed to not. There were so many things in her life right now that didn't make sense, so many ways that it was spinning out of control. She used to be in control, she used to be able to not have accidents, she used to be able to... 

Jessica was pulled out of her dream by her alarm going off, and she sat up in a fog, trying to get her thoughts in something like an order. She didn't remember much of anything - everything seemed to be happening a long while. She tried to remember what she was supposed to be doing - she had to... it had something to do with Whiskey, didn't it? She wanted to see Whiskey. He always made her feel better. 

She stood up, and she frowned. Her pajamas didn't seem to be fitting her right - they sagged in the butt, and they were too tight around the thighs. She wriggled out of them, and maybe they made a sodden noise when she dropped them, but she wasn't going to worry about that. She took her shirt off as well, and she still had the pacifier in her mouth. It took up most of her mouth, and it was comforting - so much more comforting than it should have been, when it came down to it, but was anything ever the way it was supposed to be?

She had to put her boots on. She wasn’t wearing socks, but she had to put her boots on. The air was cool against her skin, if… uncomfortable, in some way that was pinging her various discomfort centers, except that those various little pings seemed to be happening a very long way off. It was like a computer giving off error message after error message, and she wasn’t paying any attention to them, because why would she? She had other things to pay attention to. She had to put on her helmet, she had to make her way to the barn. She had to ride Whiskey. 

He would be glad to see her. He was always glad to see her - Whiskey was a good horse, he loved her. It was nice to be loved. She liked to know that she was loved, even if it was by a horse. He nuzzled her face, just like he had when she was dreaming, and she sighed, letting him. He was a good boy. She would have told him that, but her mouth was full of the pacifier, and she didn’t want to take it out. 

Jessica was on her third jump when her mother came into the ring. Her face was like a storm cloud, and it cut through some of the dreaminess that was still clinging to Jessica's whole... well, everything.

"I have been more than lenient," Jessica's mother said thickly, and she grabbed Whiskey by the bridle, "but I will not put up with this."

"Put up with what?" Jessica blinked at her, dozy, her head still full of the thick fog that seemed to suffuse everything. 

"Jessica, you are _naked_ ," Jessica's mother hissed. "You are naked, and you are _filthy_. I was calling your name as you were walking out of the house, and you didn't hear me."

"I'm sorry," Jessica said, aware that she sounded like a robot. "I must have been -"

"Jessica, you are riding _naked_. You are not Lady Godiva, this is not a thing that people do!"

Jessica's stomach cramped suddenly, desperately, and she groaned, then covered her mouth with one hand, her fingers curling in Whiskey's main. "Mom?" 

Her mother frowned, looking up at her. "Jessica? What's going on?"

Jessica sobbed, as her bladder began to go. It was an intense stream, too - she hadn't had her usual morning pee, and it trickled down her thighs, soaking into the saddle, dripping down off of her feet. It was disgusting, and she wrinkled her nose, tears dripping down her face as well. She was shaking, clutching at herself, her chest rising and falling as she tried to get a hold of herself. Then her stomach cramped up again, the familiar squeeze and pull that filled her up with panic. "No, no," she mumbled, as her bowels grumbled at her, "No, don't, I can't, no..."

"What are you talking about, Jessica?" Her mother looked up at her, concerned. "What's going on?"

"N-n-nothing," Jessica mumbled. "I need... Mommy, I need -"

"Mommy?" Jessica's mother raised an eyebrow.

Jessica whimpered, and it was such a _pathetic_ sound, she would have been embarrassed about it, except her guts were grumbling at her like a stuck car, and she shoved her hand into her mouth, her teeth digging into the meat of her hand to keep from making any kind of undignified noise. Although her body was making them for her, as she began to let out gas, and that was... oh, that was unpleasant, and that was wet as well, a wet, sticky mess that was gushing out of her, lumpy and foul smelling as it came out of her, to settle in a heap on the saddle. 

Her mother's face wrinkled up, and she made a disgusted noise. "Jessica?" She was... Jessica didn't know what was going on, except that she was crying harder, and she was still going, she was shaking, she couldn't stop crying and she couldn't stop pooping, and it was all just... happening, all at once. It was entirely removed from herself, and she didn't know how to make it _stop_ , except that it just kept going, more of the disgusting mess coming out of her, piling up in the saddle, and she gave hiccuping, gulping sobs, rocking. It was all so... squishy. Wet. Disgusting. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't do anything but shake, trying to catch her breath, trying to... make it stop. But it wouldn't. No matter what she did, it kept coming out of her, more and more, until it was sliding off of the saddle and landing on the ground, amongst all the horse manure and the other mess. There was something almost poetic about that, some calm part of her mind observed amongst all of the hysteria. 

"Jessica," said her mother, and she seemed to have moved beyond fury, beyond anything, into calm. "You are in so much trouble."

"I'm sorry," Jessica said, and she wiped her nose on the back of her hand, still giving hiccuping sobs. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to -" Her binky had fallen out at some point, and she missed it. Would her mother yell at her, if she started to suck on her thumb?

... Probably. 

"I don't care if you meant to or not," her mother interrupted. "I have been putting up with your... immaturity for the past few days. I gave you space as you dealt with whatever it is that you're dealing with, but you will _not_ humiliate me like this."

"I didn't mean to -"

"How can you not realize that you're naked?!" Jessica's mother sounded on the edge of hysterics now. "You just... Jessica, you are almost an _adult_ , you can't just -"

"I'm sorry," Jessica wailed, and she was rocking, covering her face with both hands. She could smell herself now, and how had she not noticed that she was naked? How could that be a thing that she just _missed_? Her skin was clammy and disgusting, the air cold on it in all the wet places. "I didn't mean to do it..."

"I don't care if you "meant" it or not," her mother snapped. "That saddle is completely done for. We're going to have to get rid of it. It was a new one, too."

"I'm sorry," Jessica said again. She was hiccuping, crying harder, her nose running.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself? Anything at all?" Jessica’s mother grabbed Whiskey’s bridal, and then she was beginning to walk back Whiskey back to the barn. “I know that you’re better than this, Jessica. We both know that you’re better than this.” 

Jessica couldn’t stop crying. She couldn’t breathe, she was still just sobbing like it was the end of the world, her chest aching and her eyes still streaming. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think, she couldn’t do anything but sit here and _rock_ in her own mess. It was all so disgusting - she was so disgusting - and what was her mother going to do about this. Forget about being embarrassed about a bad jump - this was more embarrassing than failing a grade, then failing out of _school_. 

She just needed to take a few more pills. That would probably help - they seemed to at least make her feel a little better. Her head got a little foggy, it was true, but just about anything was worth the distraction.

"We're going to give you a bath," said Jessica's mother. "Since you're such a mess."

"I can... I can take a bath by myself," Jessica said weakly.

"No," her mother said sharply, "you obviously can't. And anyway, why should I trust you to do something as simple as washing yourself, when you can't even remember to put clothes on before you leave the house?" 

Jessica bit her lip. There were more tears dripping down her face, and they were pattering down over her thighs. "I didn't mean to," Jessica said quietly. "I'm sorry."

Her mother was leading Whiskey. He was the only one who didn't seem bothered by all of this. "I can't think of how you could manage to forget to put your clothes on," she said. "You're acting like a toddler."

"I'm... I'm not," Jessica said.

"You peed all over yourself, and worse than that," her mother said. "You've made a huge, disgusting mess that I'm going to have to clean up, because I can't trust you to clean it up yourself, since, as I've said, I can't even trust you to put your clothes on." 

"I'm not -"

"We're not arguing about this," Jessica's mother said sharply. "If you're going to act like this, then I'm going to treat you like this."

"What do you mean by -"

"Jessica, I'm very angry at you right now," her mother said, and her voice was clipped. She was talking to Jessica the same way she had when Jessica was young and hadn't yet understood how other people's feelings worked. "I'm very mad, and I'm very disappointed. I don't want to hear another word from you, unless it's an explanation."

Jessica opened her mouth to say something... and then closed it, biting her lip. How was she supposed to argue with this? How was she supposed to do _anything_ but acquiesce, when she was sitting here in her own mess, her piss dripping down her legs. She was trying not to cry, she was trying not to... well, she was trying not to do a lot of things, and that wasn't fair. None of this was fair, as her heart beat louder in her ears and her stomach churned. The smell was starting to get to her - her own waste, mixed up with horse and sweat and who even knew what. Her anxiety was beginning to curdle in her guts, beginning to climb up her chest and it hurt. It hurt in ways she didn't even know how to explain.

"We're going to give you a bath," Jessica's mother, and her voice was clipped, angry. "We're going to give you a bath, and then we're going to diaper you -"

"I don't want -"

"I don't care what you want," Jessica's mother interrupted. "We're not talking about what you _want_ , we're going to do what you _need_ , since you obviously can't be trusted." 

Jessica wanted to say anything, but she was being taken off of Whiskey's back, being led towards the house.

"I can't even trust you to clean the saddle," her mother said. "We're going to have to get rid of it. We're going to have to buy a new saddle, and do you think that we can afford that?"

Jessica wished she had the binky in her mouth again. She wished... she wished for a lot of things. She was so... what was she feeling? She was feeling so many things, but they were also happening a long way off, and she didn't know how to _deal_ with that, just that it was still happening. She was sniffling, she realized, as her mother led her through the house, towards the bathroom. She was still in her riding boots and helmet, and she stood there mutely as her mother removed her boots, then her helmet. 

"I'm going to have to send your father out to get diapers for you," Jessica's mother groused, as she herded Jessica into the bathroom.

"I don't need diapers," Jessica said thickly.

"You _do_ ," her mother said sharply. "You really, really do."

"But I don't -"

"I don't care what you want or what you think," Jessica's mother said flatly. "I don't care about anything but getting you clean right now, because you made a huge, disgusting mess that I'm going to have to clean up, even though it's _your_ mess. I don't want to have to deal with this, and yet I have to, because you can't control yourself."

"I didn't mean to," Jessica said, and her voice was thick. "I'm so sorry. I'm so -"

"I don't want you to be sorry," Jessica's mother cut in. "I want you to be better."

“I’ll be better,” Jessica said, and now she was babbling as she was stepping into the bathtub. “I’ll be better, I promise, I can just -”

“No,” her mother said. “No, you’re acting like a baby, so we’re going to treat you like one. If you’re going to be a messy baby, then obviously I can’t trust you with anything. I don’t want you to make a mess of my furniture, or any of my other things. I can’t trust you not to make a mess of your bedroom - I saw what you did to your pajamas, by the way.”

She didn’t remember what she’d done to her pajamas. She didn’t remember much of anything, until her mother had been alongside Whiskey and she’d… had her accident. Although now she was blushing, her whole face turning dark red. 

"So," said Jessica's mother, "we're going to give you a bath. You're going to get a bath, and then you're going to be put in diapers. If you seem so determined to be a baby, you can be a baby." 

And Jessica started crying again.

* * *

Lauren lay on her bed, and she stared up at the ceiling, her phone balanced on her stomach. She bit her lip, thinking, then fired off a quick text to Jessica. 

_How are you doing?_

There wasn't anything especially incriminating about that, was there? It was just her asking after her friend. Okay, so she wasn't really... the type to reach out to Jessica like that most of the time, but it wasn't too suspicious, as long as she didn't allude to anything else, right?

Jessica hadn't been in school the day before, and Lauren was beginning to get worried. She didn't want to do any _serious_ damage to Jessica, just... maybe have a chance at the spotlight. It wasn't fair for Jessica to be hogging it all the time. It was only leveling the playing field. All the other riders would probably be grateful to know that she was being taken out of the running, right? It was practically a public service!

So why did she feel so anxious? 

Lauren rolled onto her belly, her phone on the bed next to her. She hadn't seen Whiskey at the practice barn that day - maybe he was sick? No, she didn't want him to be sick. No Jessica at practice either. It had been kind of nice - with Jessica out of the picture, Lauren was most definitely the most talented rider. Even the trainers had been paying more attention to her. Jessica's dad had been there, and he had been frowning. She wasn't sure what to make of that. Maybe she was doing something she shouldn't have been doing, but... well, Jessica shouldn't have been flaunting how good she was to everyone else, so it all balanced itself out, right?

She sighed, pressing her face into her pillow. She was thinking too deeply into this. It was simple. She was doing what she needed to do, to make sure that everything was working out the way it should have been. It would be good for Jessica, to return to a simpler time. It was totally a fair thing, right?

She stretched, and she yawned. At least her dad hadn't noticed that the bottle of regression pills was gone, which was good. She didn't want to think about what kind of trouble she'd be in. Although it wasn't as if she'd given them any reason to suspect anything from her, apart from that whole conversation she'd had with her dad about regression. But her parents didn't pay much attention to her, beyond telling her when she needed to be doing better. Her dad needed something or someone to brag about, clearly, and she wasn't really clear what else they wanted.

Sometimes she wondered if they even loved her. But this wasn't the time to think about that. This was when she should have been paying attention to how she needed to win, to make her parents proud. When she needed to _prove_ that she was good enough, so that they would finally get off of her back about it. 

* * *

Jessica lay in her bed, and she tried not to cry. It wasn't working - tears were still leaking out of the sides of her eyes, her nose running, and she was trying not to hiccup, her breath coming in gusty, whining gasps. Her parents had put those special bars on the edge of her bed, to keep her from rolling out. It wasn't a crib - it was more like a toddler's bed - but that didn't make it any better. She didn't want to feel like a toddler in her own bed! Not as old as she was!

She squirmed, and she couldn't close her legs - she was in a diaper. It was a thick diaper, thick enough that her thighs weren't touching, and every time she moved she heard the diaper crinkle. She hated it. She hated it so much, she hated all of this so much, and she wanted to stop crying. She wanted to stop crying, she wanted... on _no_ , she was _wet_. How was she wet already? She had just peed! And then her mother would come in and talk to her in that same condescending baby talk that she always seemed to use when she wanted to embarrass her, and that wasn't fair at all. None of this was fair. The unfairness of it was bringing another sob up her throat, and she covered her mouth with one hand, to keep any embarrassing sound from escaping. 

Her mother had put her in mittens, to keep her from sucking her thumb. Her mother didn't like the thumb sucking, apparently - she was worried about Jessica getting sick from it. It wasn't fair. It was like she was expected to act babyish, except she also _wasn't_ , and she wanted to argue against it, to fight, but it was just so much easier to just... go along with it. 

She should have been fighting, though. She worked so hard for everything else in her life. She wasn’t someone who just rolled over and took things - she was someone who _worked_ , and yet here she was, lying on her back with her legs forced apart by the thick, crinkling diaper. She was just… useless like this. Completely and utterly useless. 

Jessica's mother came into the bedroom, and she looked down at her daughter. Her face was doing... something, but Jessica didn't know what it meant. She'd been having more trouble reading faces, since she'd started having all of this... trouble. 

"There's my baby girl," said her mother, and Jessica's stomach seized up. She bit her lip, but more tears slid down her face. She was shaking her head, trying to sit up, but it was hard to do that, with the big diaper forcing her legs so wide open that she was faintly unbalanced. 

"I'm not a baby girl," Jessica said. 

"Are you a baby boy?" Jessica's mother lowered the barrier on her bed, sitting down. She maneuvered Jessica's head into her lap, and then she was pressing the rubber nipple of the bottle against Jessica's lips.

Jessica tried to keep her mouth closed, but her mother pressed it forward, so that the nipple was butting against her teeth.

"Jessica," her mother said sternly, "we talked about this."

_You mean you talked about it, and I just sat here crying_ , thought Jessica, and was faintly shocked at herself for that. She hadn't been able to hold much in the way of rebellious thoughts, not since she'd started getting all foggy headed. Maybe she was staring to come back to herself, a little bit? Or maybe it was just a little flash. 

Anxiety curled in her stomach, and she stared up at her Mama - her _Mom_ \- with wide eyes. The liquid going down her throat was water, thankfully - her mother wasn't making her drink baby formula, at least. That might have been the final straw, on so many different levels. The water was cold, almost sweet as it went down her throat. She sighed, her throat working as she swallowed, and her mother's fingers traced across her face.

"I used to hold you like this when you were a real baby," her mother said, and her voice was quiet. "I breastfed you, so I never actually gave you a bottle, but I missed holding you like this." She sighed, and she was beginning to rock Jessica, just a bit. "I suppose that if anything good has come out of this, it's the chance to get close with my baby girl again."

_I'm not a baby_ , Jessica said, well aware that it was hard to really argue that point around a rubber nipple in her mouth, while wearing a thick, crinkly diaper. She had more tears dripping down the sides of her face now, puddling along her ears, and it was... uncomfortable, to say the least. Could she get water in her ears from crying, or was that a ridiculous idea? Probably a ridiculous idea. This was all taking on a faint sheen of the ridiculous. Was this what it had felt like, to be Alice? _Curiouser and curiouser_ , although that wasn't technically a word.

"What's going through your head, Jessie-girl?" Her mother brushed her hair off of her forehead, out of her eyes. 

Jessica sniffed, and she licked her lips as the bottle was pulled away. "I miss Whiskey," she said quietly, which was true. Since her accident a few days before, she hadn't been allowed anywhere near her horse.

"You made such a mess of him, sweetheart, I don't know how I feel about letting you back on him," said her mother.

Jessica's lower lip wobbled - she couldn't help it. It seemed like all of her feelings were so much closer to the surface these days, and to be kept away from Whiskey... she didn't know how she could deal with that. She loved that horse more than she loved herself; sometimes, it felt like she loved it more than she loved herself. Especially when she was stuck in a situation like this, where they were treating her... well, like this.

"I'll be good," Jessica said, and her voice was thick. "I promise, I'll be good, I'll be so good. I won't have any more accidents -"

"No, you won't," interrupted her mother, leaning over to pat the diaper between her legs, "because you've got this on. No more messes from my messy little baby."

Jessica whined, and then a sob forced its way out of her throat. She was trying so hard not to cry, trying so hard not to show any kind of intense emotion, because what was she going to do if she started having a whole melt down? She didn't know how her mother would react to her having that many feelings all at once - even before all of this happened, her mother had constantly chided her on better emotional regulation.

Emotional regulation - as if she was a thermostat that was on the fritz! 

"No, no, honey, it's okay," her mother said in a soothing tone of voice. "It's okay. Don't worry. I'm here." She pulled Jessica a little bit more upright, her arms around Jessica's middle, her nose against Jessica's temple. "Come on, honey. You can tell me anything."

"I'm not doing it on purpose," she insisted, her voice roughly. "I'm sorry, I'm not. It's just... it keeps happening."

"Even if it's not a thing you're doing consciously, sub-consciously, you clearly want it," Jessica's mother said, in a voice that was probably meant to be soothing. "We've talked to several therapists about it."

_When did they do that?!_ Jessica's stomach was all twisted up again. What the hell?!

"It's alright to want to return to the simpler parts of life," her mother repeated. 

"But I want to ride Whiskey," Jessica said, and her voice cracked. "I want to ride him so badly. I miss him."

"When you've had your saddle cleaned," her mother said.

"What about the competition?"

"If you're very good, we may try entering you," said her mother.

"I don't want to ride a horse in a diaper," Jessica said, because the very idea of that was... no. Gross. Wrong, on some level that she couldn't even begin to comprehend.

"Well then, maybe you need to stop using the diapers," said her mother sharply. "I'll stop putting you in them when I don't see a need for them." 

"I'll stop using them," Jessica said, then realized what that sounded like. "Not that... not that I'm using them on purpose now, but I'll work extra hard to not use them!"

"I'll think about it," said her mother, and then her face went a little soft. "If this is a nervous breakdown... I can understand that you're stressed out. I can even understand feeling overwhelmed by the pressures of adulthood. I very much understand that, believe me. But why are you acting out like _this_?"

Jessica sniffed, and she debated all of the answers circling her head. _I'm not doing this on my own_ or maybe _when I tried to explain it to you, you dismissed me_. None of those were liable to get her anywhere, were they? So she just yawned. "I'm getting tired now," she said. "I think I need to get more sleep."

Her mother's face went sad, but she leaned forward, kissing Jessica on the forehead. "I understand," her mother said, and she patted Jessica's head. "I understand that you're going through a lot right now."

_Mostly because you're putting me through it_ , thought Jessica, although she didn't say it. She just nodded, and she gave what she hoped was a sleepy, contented smile. She shifted in her seat, and her bladder gave out - before she even had a chance to react, she was pissing. The material of the diaper absorbed it, at least, so it wasn't against her skin, but then the diaper was thick and heavy between her legs, forcing her thighs open. And her mother saw it happen, too, which was... which was worse, especially after all of that talk about how she'd work harder. 

"Jessica," her mother said, and she sounded mad. Mad and tired, as if she didn't know what to do with her. 

"I'm sorry," Jessica said, and she meant it, too. Her stomach was twisting up. "I'm sorry, I don't know why this keeps happening, it just _keeps_ happening."

"You're having a nervous breakdown," said her mother, and she said it with the calm assurance of someone who was utterly convinced. 

"I wasn't... I don't know why I'd have a nervous breakdown," Jessica said, although she was floundering. "I was doing fine. I didn't -"

"You're talking too much, sweetheart," said Jessica's mother, and she patted Jessica on the cheek. "You obviously need to be guided a little better, don't you?" Her hand was going into her own pocket, and then she was coming out, holding a pacifier. It was a big pacifier - as big as the one that Jessica had lost, when she'd been riding Whiskey. 

"No," Jessica whispered, although she wasn't sure if she meant it or not. She did long to have something in her mouth again, long to feel that deep, intense satisfaction that she didn't entirely understand, except she wanted to feel it again. 

Why was she like this? Why was this happening to her in the first place?

She was crying again. She hadn't meant to start crying again, but here she was, with tears dripping down her face, sliding down into her ears, along her temples. She sniffed, and then she was crying in earnest, broken sobs that shook her whole body and left her trembling.

"Oh, honey," said her mother, and the pacifier was in Jessica's mouth. She hated how sucking on it seemed to actually be calming her down, hated how she was starting to relax in spite of herself. She wanted to spit it out, but her mother was already beginning to untape her, spreading her legs wider. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up. I know that can't be comfortable."

Jessica was still sniffling as the front of the diaper was drawn down, pulled down and exposing her to the open air. It was cold against her damp skin, and she was crying again, trying to breathe around the binky in her mouth. She couldn't seem to stop shaking, couldn't seem to catch her breath. She squeezed her eyes shut, and she let herself be taken away to some other place inside of herself. She had some quiet, careful place, punctuated only by the "thud" of Whiskey's hooves, filling her whole self up. She let herself be lulled into something like sleep, or at least calm as she was filled with the thud-thud-thud, a rhythm that was something like her heartbeat, but also not. It was safe, it was comfortable, it felt... real in a way that her current circumstances didn't. It was the kind of real that she related to being an actual person in control of their body, and not whatever it was that she was now. She was just... inhabiting a body that did things she didn't want it to do - she wished she had a body that fit her, that behaved. She wished that she was a person again, and not this helpless, disgusting... thing. 

"Honey," Jessica's mother said, and her voice was quiet. "Honey, are you alright? You're all dry now. You can stop crying."

Somehow, that made it worse. It made it all so much worse, and this was already so _bad_ , so she wasn't sure what she was supposed to do about it, because she was beginning to have trouble breathing. _I think I'm having a panic attack_ , said some distant part of Jessica's brain, and that was an interesting thing to think about, wasn't it? Why would she be having a panic attack? It wasn't as if she had anything to panic about, apart from the fact that her whole body had been betraying her and her mother had apparently decided that instead of trying to fix the problem, she was just going to treat her like an actual baby.

... Oh. Actually, no, that would totally explain the panic attack. She wished she could turn it off. She wished she could turn it all off, that she could just stop existing, she could just stop in general. She wished... she wished for a lot of things right now. 

"Jessica?" Her mother's hand went to rest on her belly. "Jessica, what's wrong?"

_I can't breathe I can't breathe I can't breathe I can't breathe I can't breathe_ was circling in her head like a shark. "I want to go to the competition," was what popped out of Jessica's instead. 

"You want to go? We can watch it, honey, I'm sure - "

"I want to _be_ in the competition," said Jessica, and she was more sure of it than she had ever been of anything in her life.

"Jessica, darling," said her mother, and her mother's hand was on her belly now, rubbing it gently. "I love you, honey, but in your current -"

"I want to be in the competition," Jessica repeated, more forceful this time. Maybe she was getting something out of all of this horribleness after all. She'd never really had the chance to be stubborn in the past, had she? She'd always just gone along with things.

"Jessica, you want to be in the competition diapered and wetting yourself?" 

"I'm... I'm not going to wet myself," she said, and there was iron in her voice.

"You wet yourself just now," said her mother. "Jessica, you're not ready."

"I may have wet myself just now, but I'm not going to wet myself at the competition," said Jessica. "If I do you can... I'll never ride again. I promise."

It was an utterly stupid, reckless thing to do. So why did she feel like she'd done the right thing. 

"Alright," said her mother. "Alright. I understand that this is very important to you." There was something going on with her face, but Jessica didn't entirely understand it. "Are you going to take care of yourself, sweetheart?" She indicated the wet diaper, heavy and sodden between Jessica's legs.

Jessica flushed, and she struggled to sit up a bit more fully. "I... need help," she told her mother.

"Are you sure you won't need this sort of help while you're in the competition?" Her mother was adjusting her now - pulling her so that her legs were dangling over the edge of the bed, patting her hip to get her to lift them up. "Because I won't be able to change your wet diapers when you're out on Whiskey."

"I'll be okay," Jessica insisted. "I will be. I promise. I'm not having accidents like I was!"

That was true - she'd been able to hold it in for almost half an hour yesterday, which was a miracle, all things considered. 

"I do understand that you think that, Jessica, darling," said her mother as the diaper was untaped. "But just because you think it doesn't mean it's true."

Jessica bit her lip, which was already starting to wobble. "Mom," she said, and her voice was thick. "Mom, why don't you have any faith in me?"

"I had faith in you," her mother said, and then she was grabbing a wipe, beginning to wipe her between the legs carefully, "and then you came along and made such a mess all over Whiskey's saddle. How can I trust you with _anything_ after anything like that?"

As much as Jessica hated to admit it, her mother did have a point. She didn't say anything, just bit her lip again, as more tears cascaded down her face. She seemed to have an endless supply of them - she wasn't sure where they were all coming from, but oh wow were there a lot of them. 

"So we'll see," her mother said, and her tone was firm as she balled up the old diaper and grabbed a new one. 

"Yes, Mom," Jessica said, and her voice was only a little thick. At least she hadn't said "Mommy," right?

You had to take the small victories where you could get them. 

* * *

Lauren was sitting at her kitchen table when her father came storming in. "Storming" was a good descriptor in general - even his face looked stormy. Lauren was used to his odd fits of temper - he dad liked to think of himself as an even keeled man, but oh boy did he have a temper on him when the mood hit - he'd deny it to Hell and back, but that was just kind of the way he was. 

"What's up, Dad?" She leaned back in her seat, frowning down at equations on her paper. She'd always been horrible at calculus, and it just seemed to be gettign worse with every new semester. 

"Do you remember those regression drugs I told you about?" He opened the fridge, and she glanced over at him. His neck was turning red. 

"Sort of," said Lauren, and she hoped that she sounded casual. 

"I can't seem to find them," said her father. 

"Seems like a heck of a thing to misplace," Lauren said. Her palms were sweating now, as she clutched at her pencil.

"It is indeed," said her father. "I don't think I misplaced them at all, truth be told."

"No?" She licked her lips, then took a drink of her water. Her stomach was churning, and it was making her heart beat very fast in her ears. 

"No," said her father. "I think that someone else somehow managed to get into my bag and misplace them. Or possibly just take them. Which would be a shame, because those are pretty heavy duty drugs. They could do some serious damage to someone, if they were given the wrong dosage." Her father turned around, and he was looking at her, his craggy face lined with suspicion. "Have you been taking them?"

"Why would I take regression drugs?" Lauren put down her pencil. "In case you haven't noticed, Dad, I _want_ to be an adult. I don't want to be treated like a little baby or whatever, so why would I take regression drugs?"

"In small doses, they can produce a pretty effective high," said her father. "Although most people don't like to use them for that, for obvious reasons."

"Obvious reasons?" She licked her lips.

"Among other things, you'd lose a lot of money on dry cleaning." 

"Aren't there, like... ways to prevent that?" Lauren shifted, resisting the urge to drum with her pen, or fidget excessively. Her father could usually tell when she was lying, just by the excessive fidgeting. She needed to stay still.

"Not really, no," said her father. "A lot of people find that it's a feature, not a bug. They like the idea of completely losing control like that. It makes the regression seem more... real to them."

"There are people who _want_ to lose control like that?" She stared in spite of herself, her eyes wide. She liked to think that she was fairly worldly, but that... well, that was weird. She'd never understand that. 

"There are people who'd like to try a lot of things," her father said, and he was giving her a measured look.

Lauren flushed, although she wasn't sure why, and she looked down. "Well," she said, "I hope you figure out who it was that took your stuff soon." She was blushing. She wished she could get herself to stop blushing - there was something even _more_ embarrassing about the fact that she was blushing about something this... dumb, when it wasn't that embarrassing, per se. She might have taken the pills, but he didn't have to know that. He had had more than one bottle in there. 

"Right," said her father. He patted her on the top of the head, in exactly that way that she always found so infuriating, and then he was going off to do who knew what. Probably go develop some new miracle drug. 

She sighed, and she rubbed her face. She never should have started dosing Jessica, even if it _was_ putting her in the lead. She should have been good, and just let herself work harder. She shouldn't have cheated.

Except if she hadn't cheated, would she even be where she was now? Her trainers were giving her more specialized attention, her parents were praising her more, she was even sitting better on the horse. She'd figure out a way to deal with this issue once she had won the competition - and she was _going_ to win the competition, make no mistake. Without Jessica there to trip her up, Lauren was doing great. She'd just keep holding on to that forward momentum, and ride it all the way to the top. It would be that simple. If she had learned nothing else, it was that nothing was ever as difficult as she thought it was. She'd be absolutely fine.

Absolutely fine.

* * *

Jessica sat up on Whiskey's back, acutely aware of the diaper under her riding pants, but equally aware that it was clean and it was dry. She was feeling... clear headed. She was feeling calm. Calmer than she'd felt in who knew how long. She seemed to be able to think through the thick fog that had taken over her senses - she more or less felt like herself. It had been four days, and the competition was growing ever nearer, but she was just... coming back to herself. She wasn't having nearly as many accidents, she wasn't crying at the drop of a hat, she actually halfway to a human being instead of... well, whatever else it was that she had been. Although it was taking some getting used to. She hadn't realized just how out of it she had been, until she was thinking clearly again, and she felt like a super genius. 

She was reminded, inexplicably, of that one ridiculous movie she'd once watched with Lauren, the one with the girl who apparently used a hundred percent of her brain. The two of them had jeered at the television and thrown popcorn - it had been surprisingly fun to do. Hm. She hadn't hung out with Lauren - not since that humiliating time in home room, when she'd peed herself so badly. She needed to text Lauren, see how her friend was doing. She'd have to thank Lauren - especially since they'd been seeing each other at the competition anyway. 

It would be good to see Lauren - she'd been lonely since all of this business started up, and her parents had kept her in the house. Admittedly, some of that was on her - it wasn't as if she wanted to _leave_ the house, when she was so worried about having an accident at some inopportune moment and humiliating herself, but... still. This was all such a mess. A ridiculous mess that was finally, at long last, starting to clear itself up. She could stop worrying soon, and things would hopefully get back to normal.

"Jessica," her mother called, and Jessica looked up. 

Whiskey nickered, and she rubbed his neck. He shivered under her, and then he began to trot towards her mother. "You're such a good boy," she told him. " _Such_ a good boy."

His ear flicked towards her - he liked it when she spoke to him, even if she didn't think he actually understand what it was that she was saying. He was a very beautiful horse, but she didn't think that he was very smart. Still, brains weren't everything, were they? 

"You're doing a lot better," said Jessica's mother, when Jessica had pulled up to her. 

"Do you think that I can do the competition?" Jessica tried not to sound too anxious, tried not to fidget. 

"If you can stay clean," said her mother. 

"I'll stay clean," Jessica said fervently. "I _will_. I'll try harder. I promise. I will!" 

"I can trust you to try," her mother said, and there was a grim set to her face. 

"I _will_ ," Jessica insisted. 

* * *

"I'll take you to the competition," said Jessica's mother the next day, "but you're going to have to wear whatever you dress yourself in. Do you understand?"

"Thank you!" Jessica said, and she hugged her mother tightly. She had been clean and dry - she'd been keeping it together! She was going to need to take another pill, since her mother was giving her more unsupervised time now. She'd take it right before the competition, and she'd be fine. 

Absolutely fine.

* * *

The day of the competition dawned normally. Jessica got dressed, and she made her way downstairs. Her mother and father were glad to see her, at least. "Good to see you back to your old self," as her father put it. She wasn't going to complain. She just smiled, and she ate her breakfast. She was even eating her own breakfast, and wearing her own underwear. Her body was doing what she wanted it to do... more or less. She was able to tell when she needed to use the bathroom, and that was the important part, right? 

"Look at you, all grown up," her mother said, and Jessica flushed, but smiled gamely. She didn't want to be teased about that, truth be told, but what else was she going to do about it? She needed to be a good sport about all of this. She needed to keep her head about her, be a good sport, and it would all be fine. Absolutely fine. 

* * *

"You're going to win this competition," Lauren's father told her, as Lauren adjusted her helmet.

"Well, yes," said Lauren. "I'm most definitely going to win." _Especially since Jessica isn't here_. 

"There's your little friend," said her father, and Lauren did a double take. 

There was Jessica, leading Whiskey along, and no, that wasn't right, that wasn't fair, she was supposed to be the one who won. She was the one who was going to compete, she was going to make a majestic entry into the competition, and prove to everyone that she was just as good - if not better - than Jessica. This wasn't _fair_ , none of this was fair. 

"I'm going to... I'm going to go talk to her," said Lauren thickly, and then she was tying her horse's reins to a nearby tree, and she made her way towards Jessica.

"What are you doing here?" Lauren hissed at Jessica, once they were close enough to each other that they she could whisper into her friend's ear.

"I'm doing better," Jessica said enthusiastically. "I'm doing _so much_ better, isn't it amazing?" 

"Amazing," Lauren agreed tonelessly. "So amazing."

"So it'll be like our usual competitions," Jessica said. "I know that you like how hard we both have to work for it, so now we can have a _real_ competition." She was smiling as she said it, and Lauren just wanted to punch that smug, stupid smile off of her face.

"Right," Lauren said thickly. "Don't forget to take your pill." 

"I won't," Jessica said. "Thank you again for them. I really appreciate how much you've helped me." She took Lauren's hands in her own, and her face was so... sincere. It made Lauren a little sick, but she was already feeling so many things at once that she didn't really know what to do with herself. 

"Good luck," Lauren said. "Not that you need it." 

"You too," Jessica agreed. "You don't need it either!"

"Don't forget to take your pill," said Lauren. 

"Right! Thank you. You're such a good friend." 

"I do my best."

* * *

Jessica was aware that her skin was cold, as she trotted Whiskey out into the ring. He seemed happy under all of the attention, and people were looking at them funny, but what could she tell? Things were going a little cloudy around the edges again, but she was ignoring that. She was just paying attention to the fact that she had to win. Her mother had given her a despairing look, which Jessica hadn't understood, but she'd let Jessica continue on. 

Something was going on, but none of that mattered.

The judges were staring at her as well, and someone was talking about "inappropriate costuming," but that couldn't be right, because she was... she was...

She was naked.

She was naked, but for her riding boots and her helmet, and oh _god_ , everyone could see that she was naked. Whiskey shifted under her, and she held on to him, because what else was she going to do? She was shaking so hard that she couldn't breathe. Maybe she was going to pass out. That would just be the cherry on top of this whole mess, wouldn't it be? She clutched at the reigns, and then she urged him forward. She could see her mother, running up to the judge's station, but no. She'd focus on the competition. 

She was naked and she kind of wanted to die, but at least she could finish doing this. She'd finish the competition, she'd probably be padlocked into her clothes for the rest of her life, but whatever. She'd deal with that then. She knew how to ride a horse. She'd ride her horse. 

* * * 

When Jessica finished her set, she dismounted, and her mother was standing there with the bottle of pills, her expression thoughtful. 

“Care to explain these?” She had wrapped her sweater around Jessica, who was now, blessedly, less naked.

“Lauren gave them to me,” said Jessica. “They were supposed to help me with… you know, all of that.”

“Is that so.” Jessica’s mother frowned. “Well. That would… explain some things.”

* * *

Three months later, Jessica was given a golden pacifier. It was a joke - it was obviously a joke, even though she had bristled at it, just a bit, but… well. Did she make jokes about their trauma? Still. 

It was still nice to have something in her mouth. 

At least she as still _in_ school. Unlike Lauren. She almost felt sorry for Lauren. 

Almost.

* * *

“Mama,” Lauren said, and she was aware that there were tears tracking down her face. “Mama, please, Mama…” The diaper - the horrible, thick diaper - was wet, and it was cold and wet against her, and she hated it, she hated it _so_ much. “Mama…”

“Oh, honey,” said Lauren’s mother, and she rested a hand on Lauren’s forehead. “Who’s Mama’s sweet little baby?”

Lauren cried harder.


End file.
